Tortured Crystal
by BlueSpiritFire1
Summary: I cannot stop thinking of your tortured crystal eyes. It's like there's a raging fire behind the fragile glass. Seph OC. ONESHOT! Maybe onesided romantic feeling on behalf of the OC, but there's no lovey dovey stuff. Please read and enjoy!


**Disclaimer: **I do not own Sephiroth, Angeal Hewely or Genesis Rhapsodos, all of which are described, but not named in this oneshot. The random OC, from whom's point the story is told, IS mine however. I also **do not** own the song that i was listening to as i wrote this, which is listed below.

It's my first time writing Sephiroth and it has absolutely **nothing** to do with the chronological timeline of Final Fantasy VII! it just came to me as i was listening to music. He might be a bit OOC, but he's meant to be so...blargh. NOW! Enjoy the random oneshot and **PLEASE** listen to the song as you read it! **PLEASE?**

**Name:** _Tortured Crystal_

**Pairing:** _Sephiroth x Unnamed OC_

**Song:** _Love Song Requiem_ by _Trading Yesterday_

**Story**

* * *

><p>Why am I here? Why have I allowed her to drag me along to this stupid public forum? So I can get an eyeful of her favourite SOLDIERs. She turns into an excited bubble when the boring formal introductions are over and the top three 1st Class SOLDIERs walk on stage, each having their name called out.<p>

Why do I care? I don't. I'm not interested in any of you. I never have been.

She whispers to me facts, or rather, gossip, about you and your fellow comrades. I'm barely paying attention.

Like I said, I don't care about you.

She releases an excited squeal as one man with smooth black hair and a strong face walks out, nodding and taking his seat. He seems to radiate honour and everything good and virtuous. He's a good man. Even I can see that.

She sighs dreamily as the next of your fellows walks out, dressed in red leathers with playful blue eyes that scream mischief. His hair shines like copper in the light and he sits beside his friend. It's obvious they're friends.

But my friend's reaction is completely different at your appearance.

She's in awe, and slight fear.

I can sense it because she's clutching my arm annoyingly hard. I look up at you to see what's so special about you, what makes my flirtatious friend so scared.

And I see you.

Your long silver hair that trails behind you like a smooth waterfall and your unique black leather uniform with no shirt, exposing your clearly sculpted chest with two straps crossing over it are only a few of the things that make you so ethereal to me. I let my eyes feast on you. I'm afraid you'll vanish.

Have you been created by the Gods? Everything about you emulates perfection.

My heart is missing beats, I'm sure.

Your facial structure is neither as strong as the black haired SOLDIER, nor as soft as the red one. It settles on a happy medium and it suits you wonderfully. And then you turn your head to sweep your gaze over the crowd to make it clear that you won't take any nonsense.

And my heart stops, then aches.

Your eyes are beautiful. The most amazing colour I'll ever see in my life, I'm sure.

I know that SOLDIER's have eyes rumoured to glow, but yours shine like crystal, minty-aqua green crystal. Your eyes settle on mine for a millisecond, but it's all the time I need to see that you are unhappy.

Unhappy is an understatement.

You are in agony.

You've buried it, but it breaks out like a weed in your garden of perfection, no matter how often you try to poison it.

I can tell. I have a knack for these things.

As you seat yourself next to the red SOLDIER my friend goes back to drooling over the two at your side. But I cannot stop thinking of your tortured crystal eyes. It's like there's a raging fire behind the fragile glass.

I stare at the floor, not interested in their questions. You do not speak so there is no reason to listen.

Instead your eyes haunt me, or rather, what I see in them does. One day, that fire is going to break out, and you're going to do something terrible, I know.

I want to help you. I never cared before, but now I've seen your pain, I can't let you suffer. I want to know you and ease your pain.

You might not remember my dull, boring brown eyes, lost in the sea of brown eyes that you've seen.

But I will remember yours. Your eyes do things to me; make me feel hollow, naked, like you can see my soul.

They scare me; those burning eyes of yours. But, I can't forget them. I'm drawn to them, I love them.

I saw something in them.

I saw that you were sad and alone.

And I cried for you.

* * *

><p>I feel them, I hear them scream and run from you. My friend is tugging on my sleeve, but she is soon swept away in the fleeing crowd.<p>

I stand firm.

I have a reason to. She has none.

I watch you watching them flee like ants, like frightened birds in forest. They all push past me.

But I stand firm.

I lower my gaze to the earth.

My shoes are getting wet.

They are turning red.

They are becoming dyed from the blood you have spilt; the blood of those who had worshipped you.

And then you see me.

I feel your eyes.

They're peering into my soul again, wanting to know who this insignificant girl who defied you is.

And again, I feel your sadness.

And again I cry.

Those that jostle around me steal the tears I cry for you, their clothes wiping them up. The crowd disperse in a cacophony of screams for mercy.

I am left alone with you on the empty field.

Your footsteps echo in my ears, ringing out in my mind like the footsteps of an executioner. In the pools of blood surrounding me, I see the light reflecting off your blade, the glorious Masamune. You approach me, and my heart is hammering, but I cannot move.

I don't think I can even breathe.

"Foolish girl, you should have run with the others." You growl.

Your growl makes me shiver, but I do not care if you see my reaction.

"Are you a complete idiot? Why are you standing here?" You shout.

I want to flinch, but I can't. Being in your presence, alone, is like being glued. I can't move.

In one invisible motion made with grace only you possess, you hold the shining Masamune under my throat. It glistens red, stained with the blood of the innocents you killed. You don't have to use such a great blade on me. I'm not worth it, not at all.

I feel my eyes sting and a tear, untarnished and untainted, falls on the legendary blade, the saline parting the blood and mixing with it.

My tears are not stolen by the people now.

They are purely yours.

I don't move, but you notice the drop.

"Are you crying?" You sneer cruelly.

You voice is beautiful, even when you are being cruel.

"Yes." I whisper, my voice quiet as a breath, my weak little voice that renders me even more mouse-like.

"Why? Did I kill someone you love?" Your voice is harsh and curious at the same time.

The Masamune is gathering more of my tears for you.

"No." I manage. It's all I can do.

"Well then why! Why do you cry!" You roar, furious. It's like the sea itself is crashing over me, forcing me down, making my head pound.

If you have not killed someone I love, why should I cry? It is a logical question.

"I cry for you." I don't think I said the words. I was much too quiet. Maybe my lips moved, but I know I said nothing.

"I don't need your pity." You spit, pressing the Masamune's deadly, beautiful blade against my weak throat.

"I know. I don't pity you." My voice is still deathly quiet, but I know you can hear me. You with your perfection are able to hear and see everything. Your arm retracts from my neck, pulling the Masamune a few millimetres away from my skin.

"…So why?" Your voice holds only confusion now. Confusion and that same sadness that causes the tears you question.

"I cry for you because you cannot cry for yourself." My voice is broken now, as I utter those words.

My tears, your tears, fall from my eyes and roll down my cheek. As you slowly lower the Masamune from my neck, I wonder why, but I cannot stop to ask, because my voice is broken and all I can do is cry, for all the pain and sadness I see in your eyes and hear in your voice.

Because you cannot cry for your own agony.

But someone has to cry for you.

So I will.

I will cry your tears and yours alone.

"…Look at me." You say. Your voice is uncommonly gentle.

What has caused this change?

Slowly I obey and lift my head. I cannot bring myself to look at your eyes, so I settle on your chin.

It's perfect, like the rest of you.

"Look at my eyes." You command in the same soft tone.

I don't want you to see my eyes.

They're boring brown and red now, but I obey again.

Your eyes are like a sea of sorrow and I feel like I'm lost in them. I'm drowning in green and your slit pupils are like thin abyss' disguising themselves as islands of safety.

I see your pain and your anguish.

I see all of it and I cry heavier.

You see that I understand.

You understand that I have become your tears, your vault of pain.

And I see something else flicker in your green seas, sparkling on the seafloor, like a treasure.

It's joy.

You are free from your sorrows now.

They are mine to cry over.

That is my responsibility, my honour.

My plain brown eyes overflow with tears and I can't see, I haven't got clear eyes to see why you are suddenly shifting. Your signature one-of-a-kind scent suffocates me, but I love it.

I bask in it, revel in it.

And then, I am pressed against you.

Your strong arms are wrapped around my shoulders, the Masamune in one hand.

My heart freezes as I realise you are hugging me.

You, the Great General, are hugging me, a common civilian, an ordinary girl. A girl who saw your pain and wanted to help you carry it, wanted to ease your pain and bring you a little bit of relief.

"…Thank you." You whisper sincerely. Your voice is breaking too, and I slowly wrap my own arms around your middle, fingers resting on your soft, long silver mane that radiates heavenly bliss.

"You don't have to be sad anymore. You'll never have to cry again." I reassure you, finding my weak voice again. I think it had been drowned by the sea of pain for a moment there.

You nod once, then slowly unfurl your arms from around me, and I hesitantly let go of you, savouring everything I felt, smelled and heard; the scent of your hair, the texture of your leathers, the sound of the blood rushing through your veins.

All of it I will cherish.

We stand tall, you and I, the sadness and depression freed from your eyes.

They look like calm pools now.

You don't look at my eyes again, not wanting to see everything you left behind for me to cry for.

Things you never had the chance to, because you were never meant to cry.

You were meant to kill.

I don't blame you.

I understand.

Who would want to see those things again?

I half expect you to kill me; kill me and destroy all your pain with me.

But you don't.

You walk beyond me, head lifted up proudly, defiantly, the Masamune faithfully at your side.

I turn, watching you.

"You won't kill me?" I ask, surprised that I voice my own thought and that you are leaving me alive.

My voice is stronger now.

You've made me stronger.

You stop and the wind plays with your hair.

"Why?" You ask.

You're smiling, or smirking, I can hear it.

And my heart soars.

"Why would I kill a piece of my own heart?" Your voice is an almost silent whisper, snatched by the wind and blown into my ears.

The words resonate like a fanfare, echo like a shout and rumble like a mountain. I am a piece of your heart?

"Why would I kill my saviour?"

Why do you torture me with such words? Do you mean them, or are you toying with me?

No, you mean them.

I can tell.

Your voice rings with truth and your footsteps thud solidly, fading into nothing as you leave me alone in the blood soaked square.

Only after your perfect figure has gone from my vision completely do I smile.

And a tear rolls down my cheek.

* * *

><p><strong>},8 So...SAD! ...right? _<strong>

**RIIIIIIGHT? Meh. **

**Well, i wrote this after 24hrs+ of no sleep and i think my brain was playing tricks with me. I'm seriously surprised this one isn't riddled with typos and stuff.**

**As always, please review! I'm pretty noobish at writing in 1st person and i might've overused a few words, but overall, i'm happy with it ^^**

**Also, the tear at the end is a happy tear. Not sure what it's implying, but since sadness seemed to be the ruling emotion in this one, i thought i'd end it happily...kinda.**

**If i ever manage to put up any of the longer fics i'm slowly ploughing through with Seph in them, i'll make sure he's a bit more in character, but don't count on them popping up anytime soon. I seem to have gotten into the habit of writing oneshots after a long period of no sleep, then posting them.**

**ANYWAY! REVIEW! THE POWER OF SEPHIROTHISM COMPELS YOU!**

**Seph:**...Sephirothism...really?

**Me:** :D YES! It's a cult that worships YOUUUUU!

**Seph:**...Didn't i just _kill_ all my worshippers in this?

**Me:**...Well...technichally, not _all_ of them. JUST GO WITH THE FLOW MAN! I thought you wanted to be a God!

**Seph:** Toúche.


End file.
